


She's Non-Stop

by zephsomething



Series: Surviving the War [30]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephsomething/pseuds/zephsomething
Summary: Hermione's life is finally coming together, sort of.





	She's Non-Stop

**Author's Note:**

> Quick reminder that if you want to really get this story you should read from the beginning !

The graduation ceremony for Hermione’s muggle university was small, only Harry, Ginny, and Ron came to it. Harry spent the whole time explaining quick and quiet to them what various words meant. After, as everyone cheered for the graduates and the ceremony ended, Hermione came over to them, already bubbling with ideas for the ministry.

By the end of that week she’d moved from the paper pushing position she had in the Being Division of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to a proper intern. She’d barely been there a day before she had thirty petitions going for various changes, including to the actual name of the department. Every time Harry saw her for the rest of the summer they traded comments about each other’s hair. His hair got messier and messier as he prepared for his new teaching position and hers got frizzier and frizzier as she stopped trying to control it in favour of using that time for paperwork.

She got letters full of pus and howlers that screamed about dangers and regulations. The letters went straight into her trashcan and the howlers she ignored. These were things she’d started dealing with years ago. The whispers and hisses in the halls of the ministry were no worse than the ones she’d heard at school when she was a child. Several years ago that might have given her pause but that was before the war, before the occupation of Hogwarts.

During her hours at work she met with anyone who would see her, traded barbed words with her superiors, and used her status as a war hero whenever she could. Occasionally, as it was called for, she’d drop Harry’s name and he’d get his own wave of howlers. During her ‘off hours’ she met with house elves, with centaurs, goblins, and werewolves. She asked them what they needed, what they wanted, and what the ministry could do for them. They greeted her with confusion, suspicion, and distaste but she kept coming back. She told them about Lupin, Dobby, Kreacher, and Winky. They offered her their own stories, and slowly, one by one, they started to trust her.

By halfway through summer she was Head of the Being Division, rewriting any laws she thought she could get passed and a great many she knew couldn’t.

Her unrelenting pace through the department earned her more enemies than friends but this too was familiar to her. One day, shortly after her promotion to Head of the Being Division she got a visitor. Her office was smaller than someone more well liked would have gotten but the window was always sunny, even when every other window in the place stormed.

“Hermione?” Andromeda stuck her head into the office and Hermione glanced at her calendar, she and Ron had regularly scheduled evenings with Andromeda. Ron was one of her best chess partners and Hermione liked to scatter her books and papers around Andromeda’s house just to see her sigh and tut.

“Personal or Professional?” Hermione grinned and gestured for her to come in. Andromeda had started being asked to speak not long after the war, she doubted highly that most who had asked had realized what exactly Andromeda would say.

“Both.” These days Andromeda had power in the slant of her shoulders and in the way whole rooms went quiet when she spoke. Once upon a time Hermione would have envied her that. Her powerful shoulders lifted in a shrug as she sat on the guest chair. “You’re making enemies these days.”

“That’s kind of the story of my life.” Her grin turned a shade more wry and she gestured to her waste basket, there were currently four bulging letters, two boxes, and something dead in it. “I’ve been getting presents like these since my fourth year.”

“Oh I’m not talking about those, not entirely.” At her head shake Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I’m talking about the ones with power, the ones who will stop your laws and stall any attempt you make for power.”

“I’m not making an attempt for power.” Hermione made a dismissive sort of gesture. “I just want to make things right.”

“Exactly.”

“Yes fine, I’ll need power to get where I want to be but if you want me to play nice with bigots and jerks-”

“I don’t.” Andromeda’s voice sounded almost like laughter as she shook her head. “I’ve seen how you move through this place, and I’ve watched how you interact with people and with beings.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive.” Hermione could feel a muscle twitch in her cheek.

“And yet you treat them very differently.” And just like that Hermione felt all the annoyance seep away from her. “With house elves, centaurs, goblins, and werewolves you listen, cajole, and smile. You make them feel accepted, welcome, and listen to their opinions but with witches and wizards, especially those with power, you’re dismissive at best.”

“They hate anyone who’s different.”

“They fear them.” Andromeda held up a hand as Hermione opened her mouth. “Yes some of them do just hate but most of them were raised to fear them, they just want to feel safe. So they send their anger at you because your new laws make them fear what they’ve been told their whole life they should.”

“So I’m supposed to, what, coddle them? Because of misplaced fears?”

“They need just the same thing as everyone else, they need to feel listened to.” She stood up before Hermione could think of a response. “The more people who believe in you the easier it will be to get your laws passed.”

Hermione took another look at her trash can as Andromeda left. Then she pulled out a fresh parchment and a quill. It couldn’t hurt to try.


End file.
